Japan Exodus - Day 44: Keeping Fit

Diets never held much influence over me.

It’s not that I couldn't follow the restrictions, it’s that I never wanted to. Against the many modern suggestions for diet regiments, I believe the idea of constructing a diet in the general sense for the general public is absurd. Your intake ought to be highly personalized.

You could say I feel about diets the same way I feel about alarm clocks. It is better to eat what you want when you want it, the same way it’s better to sleep until you wake up, rather than when an alarm tells you to. Making adjustments along the way, your body and attitude falls into a natural rhythm and takes the shape you mold. 

Milk. Did you know that the first of our ancestors hundreds of thousands years ago could not digest cow’s milk? They lacked an enzyme to digest the kind of lipids found there. Today, we call these people lactose intolerant.

I never could tolerate lactose. A tall glass of milk would tear me up inside, and the fear of kidney stones made from unbroken calcium deposits is a pain I planned to stay away from. After all, there are other ways to consume calcium other than milk, such as broccoli.

However, when first cycling around Japan with sister, I found that not only is there a strong supply of soy-milk available in many flavors, but that I could also find the biological patience to tolerate calcium. Experimenting with many different dairy and dairy like products, the adjustment was made not so much to avoid dairy. That is not the key. What I found works best for me is to avoid those products that contain preservatives. That is the one factor which consistently has me reaching for more toilet paper across different foods and drinks. Those little individually wrapped milk substitute creamer cups that never need refrigeration? I stay away from those. But that’s me. 

Checking my heart rate via ipod application. The concept is really innovative actually. Using the light on your smart phone, the camera can pick up the pulse in your index finger (you can’t use your thumb, as that digit has its own pulse) and extrapolate your heart rate fairly accurately. This rate was taken “at rest” before I started backing away my belongings inside the tent. 

But what does it all mean? Well, I heart rate of 44, according to WebMD, is on the better side of a “well-conditioned athlete”. Not that heart rates are the only factor in health, but hey, it’s a great sign.

Also, what do you make of the layout of demographics here? Neely born babies have the highest “normal ”rates, followed in decreasing order by children, teens, and adults. It seems that heart rates are supposed to decrease inversely proportionate to the increase in age; the lower the heart rate, the older the age. Seems to make sense if you’ve ever seen a tired parent herd their running children through the supermarket. But, then, what of the really low heart rates of “athletes?”

Rainy from the day before, the skies where not especially pretty to look at today. One thing the rain always does is fill the paddy fields up again. With no wind and just the right amount of light, you can catch a piece of heavenly bodies reflected in within their greed dotted grids as you cycle.

A nicely proportioned lake to cycle around. I love the idea of living by a lake, especially a sized lake that is small enough to see across to the other side. 

A cool figure 8 field appeared in the grass as I prepared to cross a bridge. Looks like an amazing place to run, forever.

Today, for the first time in longer than I can remember, I met a man who dared to WALK across Japan. He was also making his way north up and into Hokkaido.

We met along a pedestrian walkway, a good way to meet people rather than along the side of the street’s shoulder where I prefer to be. You couldn't say that I stopped him, or that he stopped me, we came to the realization of each other’s presence at the same time to say “good morning.” He looked like he had been through a lot, albeit in very high spirits.

He told me a quick story of his journey; telling me that the deciding factor for this journey was not any revelry for the nature of his country, though Japan’s nature is certainly something to revere. His journey was not sponsored, nor had he ever endured such a long journey by foot. Before his departure actually, he didn't even consider himself an athlete, and smoked a pack of cigarettes a day. What could bring this man to the monumental decision then to commit to a lonely and poor life of traveling across the months into unknown territories? I had an idea I could relate to, I thought.

Turns out, I didn't. His wife died. His wife of over 40 years had passed away. Something I, nor I fathom most people, could come to grips with. The man was not happy for passing, of course. Rather, he said he maintained his high spirits because he felt her beside him along the way, and that indeed they are taking this trip together. Though, it seemed he is doing all the work – he joked. I pulled out 1000\ for the wondering adventurer, and told him to continue doing his best.

As for me, this is not my best. Cooking with a single stove and medium pot takes a little ingenuity and just the right ingrediates. You cant certainly cook everything you want. And when hunger turns to impatience, a warm bowl of miso ramen and two pieces of BBQ chicken is perhaps the healthiest menu item but by far something that is wanted on this cold misty day.

Acquainting a more impressive traveler than I really made my day. Usually I am on the other end of the conversation, people I meet along the way telling me to do my best or how they wish they could journey along too. Today, I was reminded of the existence of giants.

Love,
-A